Can I Hold Your Hand?
by Blondie B. Happy
Summary: When their eyes meet, all the pain in her fades and a deep passion she has never felt before courses through her veins. He steps forward cautiously and gives her a watery, sad smile. "Can I hold your hand?"


**Just a small oneshot. It's an AU of Annabeth's injury in the Last Olympian (During Chapter 12) Hope You Enjoy!**

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He speaks to her softly.

"Hey."

That one word, those three letters, so quiet that if she hadn't been so alert, so terrified, she would've believed that they were a dream. Unless she is dreaming right now, and the world as she sees it is just a lie.

That couldn't be possible though, because the pain is too real. The pain in her body is worse than any nightmare. When she closes her eyes, she hopes to fall asleep or wake up, for something to change.

The pain won't go away. It wraps around her neck like a noose and tugs upward, cutting of her breathing. It chokes her and spin her, and she claws and thrashes to breathe once more, but the rope is too tight and squeezes too hard, and then she begs for death but it never comes, and the agony just won't stop.

And that is what the gash on her shoulder feels like.

Deep within her mind, she scolds herself for feeling like this. Many of her friends have already died in this hellish war against the Titan army, and yet she cries out just because of a wound to the shoulder. If she had been quicker, she could've disarmed Ethan rather than take the blade into her own body.

But she panicked.

What she did was a knee jerk reaction. Actions first, thoughts and concerns later. Definitely not how a daughter of Athena should act, but she had to do something, because Ethan hadn't been defending himself. He had been out to kill, with blood lust in his eyes.

The knife had been moving towards Percy, who'd had his back to the demigod, unprotected. In those small moments, everything had become about protecting him at all costs. This passion had zinged through her body, and she knew deep within in heart that Percy would not die. She didn't care what some stupid prophecy predicted.

No one was taking her Seaweed Brain from her.

She turns her head to the side, and everything and everyone else fades until they are the only two people in the world. There is no more war, no more death, and the pain stops for second. She wants to smile, but the muscles in her face feel sore, so she can do no more but stare back at him.

She remembers the others, and her eyes scan over the faces. Most are concerned towards her, but some of them are smiling, their gazes darting between the two of them. "Come on," someone says finally. "Let's give the two of them some space." People mumble in agreement and file out of the room.

Soon, she and Percy are completely alone. Percy takes a shaky breath, and this must be a dream because he looks like he is going to start crying. He looks so out of place and so powerless. "What's wrong?" she asks worriedly.

He lets out a harsh laugh and runs a hand over his face, leaving behind angry red marks. He fists his hand in his hair like he wants to yank it all out. He slides his look down her body and it ends up focusing on her shoulder. His face turns a sickly shade of green. "Your arm…"

"It looks worse than it is," she insists, and that's not true. But there's no point in making him be troubled over her. There is nothing more that he can do to help. His presence alone has a healing quality to it. "The venom hasn't spread from my shoulder, so I'll be fine."

"Annabeth," he sighs, his voice thick.

He stares, expression full of care.

She stares longingly.

The pain fades once more.

There is something wholly possessive about the way Percy looks at her. It fascinates her and she wants to inspect it. She wants to get up and runs her fingers over the worry lines in his face and over his eyebrows, which furrow together when he is anxious. She wants to press her lips to his and drown in the feeling of being in his arms, because she knows that he would be the best sort of medicine for her.

He steps forward cautiously and gives her a watery, sad smile. "Can I hold your hand?"

Her heart slows and stops then starts back up again, faster than ever.

She responds to him by reaching towards him with her good arm. He flushes and slowly walks toward her, looking as if he is dragging the weight of the world behind him. He kicks the table to be beside her chair and sits down.

He sets his hand down facing upward. She puts her hand on top of his and their fingers intertwine.

Moving her good shoulder towards him, she leans against his body. He moves his chin up so that she can fit her head into the space between his head and shoulder, and then set his chin down gently on top of her head. "Does this hurt?" he asks.

She shakes her head slightly.

They stay that way for a while. No one comes in to talk to them. They all must know that now is not the right time. She could've been killed if she hadn't been treated so quickly. She could've lost her arm. The person she may love could've died. So much worse could've happened.

Knowing that makes her snuggle closer.

His fingers gently twine in her hair and brush it away from the bleeding wound. She knows that he wants to ask her why she did what she did. He wants to fix all of her problems, everyone's problems. When will Percy ever learn that it's not going to happen? Maybe never. But if he moved now, that would ruin everything.

"When I saw you go down..." He trails off uneasily. "Annabeth, you have no idea what that felt like. There was blood everywhere and the look on your face..."

She feels like she is shaking but her body isn't moving.

"Why did you do it? How did you know?"

Why she did it? She hadn't wanted him to die. Life without him would've been unimaginable. With no Percy, her life wouldn't have gone on. The world would've stopped turning and she would've been all alone. Percy was everything to her, and she was just starting to realize it now.

How did she know what? She wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. She wasn't going to ask though.

Percy started to speak against, but she stops him with her hand. One twitch of her fingers makes the words leave his mind, and they are casted into silence again. For some time there is nothing else but the both of them. There is no sound. There is no wound.

When she yawns, he starts to pull away. "You should be resting."

"Please don't leave me," she murmurs, her voice so quiet that he probably can't even hear her. So she squeezes his hand and tugs him towards her. The movement is weak but he nearly falls down on her. But he gets so close to her that she is sure she'll never be able to move. Only her head barely can. She blinks slowly and looks at him, nearly gasping.

His eyes are so green, so deep that she feels drenched in his emotion. The look in his eyes… it is most certainly love.

_Love._

Four letters with most beautiful musical quality to it. Does she love him? She thinks she does.

"Never," he promises.

His lips brush over her forehead.

He squeezes her hand as if he will never let her go again.


End file.
